


no open door

by golden_geese



Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Episode: s03e12 The Gang Gets Whacked, Episode: s03e13 The Gang Gets Whacked (Part 2), Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Other, Still, anyway this one is kinda jumbled n fragmented, bc the nature of dealing with trauma is NOT clean or neat, but he still raised u n shit?, but like, i know frank isnt dennis' dad but like???, i know frank wasn't around much when the twins were kids, i would still consider him my dad for the rest of my life, im only 21 but if i found out my dad wasn't legit my dad, put urself in that position, the person u thought was ur dad for 30 years isn't, this isn't shippy but u can read it that way if u want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-09-06 12:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/golden_geese/pseuds/golden_geese
Summary: sometimes when your dad forces you into prostitution, it reminds you of all the times you were raped in middle school, and maybe that isn't great. takes place directly after "the gang gets whacked". tw: non-graphic but still disturbing references to a kid being raped.there's no open doorthere's no way to get throughthere's no other witnessesjust us two





	no open door

He wrestles with the pillowcase. It’s stuck. It’s staticky or something. It won’t come off. Maybe it’s that his hands are moving too fast and he can’t get a good grip on the fabric. Maybe it’s that the upstairs neighbors are bumping bass so loud he can feel it. Maybe it’s that the room is freezing fucking cold. 

(plasticky nails, always the plasticky nails, always digging into his back)

He turns to shut the window. Sees it’s already shut. Goes back to the pillow.

(she smelled like old books, like cheap perfume, like sweat, like hairspray)

Gets it out of the case, eventually. Tosses the case onto the pile on the floor. He goes for the duvet cover next, fumbling to get it unbuttoned. Once it’s unbuttoned he starts pulling the duvet out of the cover, trying not to get it tangled up in itself.

(hot breath against his neck)

He throws the duvet cover onto the pile too, chest heaving for some reason. For no reason. It’s cold. He needs to shut the window. It’s already shut.

Dennis leans down to pick up the pile of sheets. 

(he always went home and sat on the floor between his bed and the wall, the claw marks on his back stinging, his flesh crawling, his fingers numb-- would be flinching away if anyone tried to touch him for weeks-- would probably just begin to start feeling like a person again and then he would end up alone in the library and things would go back to square one)

Living room. Kitchen. Washing machine. He shoves the lid up and nudges the sheets in, holding down the button on the off-brand laundry detergent spout for longer than necessary. Closes the lid, sets the heat to ‘sanitize’, presses the ‘start’ button. It whirs to life, circling the sheets around and around, creaking heavily against the wall.

(boys can’t be raped)

He turns to head back to his room. Comes face-to-face with his roommate; starts.

“Jesus Christ, dude, don’t fucking scare me like that,” he snaps, clutching at his chest.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to. You doing laundry again, bro?” Mac asks.

Dennis glances behind him at the washer. “Yeah.”

“Didn’t you do, like, three loads yesterday?”

He had. Clothes, towels, bedding.

“Yes,” he says defensively.

“What the hell else do you have to wash, man?” Mac laughs a little.

“Is it a crime to want clean sheets?” Dennis demands.

“No, dude.” Mac’s eyebrows are knit. “You okay, Den? You been acting weird ever since the mob thing.”

He shifts his shoulders. “I’m fine.”

“Are you sure? ‘Cause...”

Mac keeps talking. Dennis stops listening. Listens, instead, to the angry churn of the washing machine. To the breathing in his ears. To the loud air conditioner unit in the back office of the library. To the moans gasps whispers.

(don’t tell anyone or you’ll get in trouble this is our little secret dennis)

“Are you even listening, Dennis? Hello?”

He flinches. “Hi.”

“Are you shivering, bro? You cold?”

Mac reaches for him. He yanks away, stumbling backwards against the dryer. “Don’t touch me,” he hears himself say. 

“Okay, yeah, I won’t,” Mac says, frowning harder, stepping back, palms up in surrender. “Sorry. Maybe you should have a drink or a cigarette, man.”

Dennis nods tightly. A cigarette. That would calm his nerves.

(although really this is why he started smoking to begin with, this is why he started stealing his mom’s cigarettes, this is why he chain smoked until he puked on his fourteenth birthday)

“Hey, where did that bruise come from?”

“What bruise?”

Mac touches his cheekbone. Dennis mirrors him, finding pain under the pressure of his finger.

“I… think from Frank slapping the shit out of me the other day,” he says.

Mac was hitting him too. He’s almost forgotten that part. Chosen to forget. Gotta keep at least one ally.

“Shit, dude,” Mac says. Maybe he’s forgotten about his involvement too.

“Think I’m just gonna take a nap,” Dennis says slowly, hand still on his cheek.

“You… just put your bedding in the wash,” Mac points out.

He deflates a little. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Didn’t you just wake up, anyway?”

“I guess.”

“Seriously, bro, what’s going on with you?”

(he lost count of how many times the librarian made him fuck her lost count of all the times he tried to tell his parents about it and failed lost count of all the times dee asked him why he was being so fucking quiet and weird lost count of)

“Dennis?”

“What?” He crosses his arms. 

“Sit down, or something, you’re freaking me out.”

He does it. Sits down on their couch. It’s usually easiest to just do what Mac says. He grabs a throw pillow and hugs it to his chest. 

Mac sits down next to him. The way the couch depresses-- that he can feel Mac sitting down-- sets his pulse off again.

“My dad,” he hears himself say. “He shouldn’t… I mean… it’s weird to make your kid…. you know?”

“What does Bruce Mathis have to do with anything, dude?”

Dennis scoffs. “I’m talking about Frank.”

“Oh,” Mac says, confused. “He’s not your dad, though.”

“Yeah, god dammit, I know he’s not my dad, but I thought he was for thirty years, and I’ve only known he isn’t for one year, okay? Still kinda seems like he’s my dad to me.”

“Okay, sure, dude,” Mac says, scooting away.

“If you found out your dad wasn’t actually your dad, would you just immediately forget ever feeling like he was and just be used to your dad not being your dad right away?” Dennis snaps, the words not even really making sense to him as he says them.

(frank is already used to dennis not being his son already used to dee not being his daughter and dee is already used to it too so dennis is the only one)

“I don’t understand the question, man.”

“Whatever.”

(hot breath on his neck plasticky nails in his skin our little secret don’t tell anyone aren’t you lucky most boys your age are virgins)

“Dude, seriously, you keep staring into space, what’s going on with you? Here,” Mac says, grabbing a cigarette from the box on the coffee table. He holds it out to Dennis.

Dennis stares at it for a moment as if it’s poison. Wills himself to accept it. Sticks it in his mouth; lights it unsteadily.

(your mom is dead and your dad doesn’t think twice about whoring you out and your sister doesn’t give a shit and no one gives a shit and she probably still works at that library)

“You gotta smoke it, bro,” Mac says.

“Right.” He puts it back in his mouth. Takes a second drag. Flicks ash into the ashtray on the coffee table. 

(and your dad doesn’t think twice about whoring you out)

He feels sick. He can’t smoke this cigarette. He stares at it for a moment.

“Mac,” he says.

“Yeah, man?”

“I can’t… I don’t want this,” he says. He hears himself. Hears how dead he sounds. Wonders what he sounds like normally.

“It’s not making you feel better?”

He shakes his head. Ash is about to fall onto his lap.

Mac takes it from him just in time. Stubs it out in the ashtray. “Let’s watch a movie or something,” he suggests. 

Dennis feels Mac’s eyes on him. Wants to tell him to look the fuck away.

He tightens up, hugging his knees to his chest, shoving himself into the corner of the couch. “I don’t feel good,” he hears himself say. Absolutely does not mean to say this.

“I can tell,” Mac says, tone a little quieter, a little softer. “You need a blanket or something? Water? A shot of whiskey?”

Dennis shakes his head. Mac gets up anyway. Grabs a blanket. Puts it over Dennis.

“Thanks,” he says, barely audible.

(and your dad doesn’t think twice about whoring you out)

“Seriously, dude, what’s your deal? Are you high on something?”

“No,” he says.

“Do you want me to see if I can find some weed or something?” Mac suggests.

“No.”

“What do you want then, dude?”

“Nothing,” Dennis says. 

“You want me to leave you alone?”

“No.”

He can still feel Mac staring at him. Thinks about going to his room to curl up in his bed and take a nap. Remembers his bedding is in the washer. Fuck.

(our little secret he could hear dee playing music across the hall when he got home and singing along he told his mom he had a migraine and didn’t want dinner he ends up scrubbing himself so hard in the shower his skin is red and raw the next day but it’s better it’s so much better)

Mac turns the TV on. Lowers the volume. 

“If you wanna talk, or whatever, let me know,” Mac says.

“Having sex with all those old ladies,” he hears himself say. “It was gross and weird and I don’t wanna do it anymore.”

“Okay, dude,” Mac says, kind of taken aback. “You don’t have to. We got rid of the mob. Everything’s back to normal.”

He shudders hard. Is fourteen again for a second. Is that trembling kid who wasn’t raped because boys cannot be raped.

(and your dad doesn’t think twice about whoring you out)

“You gotta breathe, Dennis,” Mac says gently. 

“Don’t touch me,” Dennis whispers.

**Author's Note:**

> song lyrics in the beginning are from two by the antlers. this is an anon request from my tumblr golden-geese. thanks for reading! if you enjoyed this or have any thoughts about it, consider leaving me a comment! i appreciate them all SO much and i always reply!  
> boys absolutely CAN be raped!!!!!!!!! don't listen to dennis!!!


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